


Chronic Pain Management

by Milla_GSD



Series: South Downs Cottage Life [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Crowley has chronic pain, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Disabled!Crowley, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, South Downs Cottage, author has chronic pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 10:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20526413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milla_GSD/pseuds/Milla_GSD
Summary: Crowley has his good days and bad days when it comes to his chronic pain. When he has a flare up though, the worst one he's had since moving in with Aziraphale, he panics.He's been hiding his pain for six thousand years. How will Aziraphale react when he finds out about one of Crowley's longest kept secrets?





	Chronic Pain Management

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of my own personal experiences with chronic pain
> 
> No beta, we fall like Crowley (but really, I usually edit my fics within a week of them being published. I just like to let it marinate first) update: edited!
> 
> Enjoy!

As soon as Crowley wakes, he can immediately tell three things without ever opening his eyes. The first, his angel isn’t in the bed anymore, most likely having wandered off to go make tea and breakfast or something. The patch of sun shining in through the window landing on him, warming him under the blanket, is the second thing he notices.

The third, the easiest one for him to notice, is it’s going to be one of _those_ days...

Crowley can’t move, can’t even flex a finger, and he’s scared to open his eyes at this point. Every breath, every twitch that runs through him, sends a shock through his system, and Crowley has to fight back a groan. He’s dealt with mornings like this since the very beginning, dealt with having to be in pain for longer than he cares to admit, and since moving in with Aziraphale, he has done his best to hide it all from the angel.

They haven’t been in the cottage for very long yet, only a couple of months, but Crowley hasn’t had a supremely Bad Pain day since then. So far, he’s been able to keep Aziraphale in the dark about just how badly he hurts sometimes, but Crowley knows that that’s coming to an end now... There’s no way he is going to be able to hide this completely from his angel today, but he sets his mind to at least try.

Crowley can’t move anything, not even a finger. The sleep paralysis always hits him after a stressful night, but it hasn’t been this bad since he started falling asleep next to Aziraphale. His legs a few times, sure since they were always more prone to this anyways, but not his entire body from the neck down. Sighing internally, Crowley focuses all of his energy on his toes, doing his best to wiggle them. It takes all of his concentration, but the more he thinks about it, the more he focuses, he starts to be able to get at least a couple of his toes to move the smallest of bits.

Eventually, he gets all of his toes to wiggle, and starts working on his ankles. It goes like this for a while, forcing his body to move one joint at a time, even as it protests loudly the more he pushes it. Some of his joints flare, burning painfully as he gets them to bend. It’s a familiar feeling though, and Crowley pushes it off as he keeps pushing his body to move even more. He has to get through at least this part before his angel comes back, has to be able to open his eyes without seeing any left over images from his dreams, but it’s never an easy task and one he has learned to not rush.

Rustling from below alerts Crowley to Aziraphale’s movements, and he soon catches the sounds of footsteps landing on the stairs leading up to their room. Grimacing, he’s still only able to up to his hips, still not able to move his hands, let alone pull himself up off of the bed. He turns all of his focus to his fingers, knowing if he can get them to wiggle, he can rush the rest of the process now that his legs are fine again for the most part.

The door creaks open just as Crowley gets his hands back in working order and he slowly peels his eyes open, blinking against the soft light filtering in through the window. “Crowley, you awake yet?” He hears his angel call softly into the room and Crowley manages to grunt in reply.

“Just woke up, angel,” he murmurs just loud enough for the other to hear him, voice still thick with sleep.

“Oh, good!” Aziraphale exclaims, and Crowley’s heart clenches at the overwhelming amounts of joy that seem to fill those two simple words. “I made breakfast, if you’re interested. There’s coffee waiting to be brewed.”

Crowley turns his head, eyes landing on blue ones. His angel is standing in the doorway, face already glowing. “I’ll be down in a moment,” Crowley hears himself saying, never wanting to disappoint. Aziraphale gives him a blinding smile before slipping away and Crowley silently thanks Someone that he already isn’t much of a morning person in general. It at least gives him an excuse for not being out of bed already.

Shutting his eyes tight, Crowley groans loudly as he manages to finally pull himself to a sitting position. Everything in him screams in protest, begging him to just stay in bed, but Crowley knows he can’t do that without truly worrying Aziraphale. He promised himself he would stop doing that, stop making the angel think he was broken, and staying in bed all day like he would have done in the past would only break that promise. So, Crowley finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, feet barely even touching the floor yet. He leans over, hands bracing himself behind him, and he takes a deep shuddering breath as he tries to prepare himself for the standing bit.

He’s always hated the standing bit.

He pulls his eyes open, glancing towards their bathroom, focusing on at least just making it there before he needs to stop again. “Small goals, small goals...” he starts to tell himself, using the idea that he’s created to help himself over the years. After taking one more deep breath, Crowley finally pushes himself off of the bed, instantly reaching out for the bedside table to anchor himself. He has to grit his teeth as pins and needles and stabbing pains start at his feet and race up his legs as he forces them to take his weight on them and it’s almost enough to make him cry out. He forces it down though, along with every other emotion that comes to him, and reminds himself of his goal, eyes still trained on the bathroom.

He gives himself a few moments before forcing his spine to straighten, asking it to do the one thing it really hates to do, and has to stand still as his head swims from the pain that courses through him. It’s worse than it’s been in a very long time, and Crowley starts to fear that there will be absolutely no hiding this from his angel. Once his head stops making him feel as if he’s on a boat, Crowley starts to make his way, step by slow step to the bathroom.

“Get a hold of yourself,” he mutters through clenched teeth as each step sends another shock of pain through him. “You’re a fucking demon.”

It takes him much longer than it ever should, but Crowley finally manages to reach the bathroom, leaning against the door once it’s closed. He’s worried Aziraphale will come looking for him again any minute now, but he can’t bring himself to care as he forces himself to breathe through the pain. The desire to slide to the floor and curl up into a ball is a strong temptation, but Crowley makes himself stay on his feet as he leans even more on the door, aching for the support it brings him. Without even looking around the room, Crowley snaps his fingers, changing the giant tub into a glass and tile walled shower. Hot water pounding against his aching, stiff body sounds like the perfect remedy right now, if he can only get to the actual shower.

Sighing, the demon pulls himself away from the wall, reaching for the pair of glasses that sits on a shelf next to him. The small amount of comfort they bring him as he slides them on makes him shiver, instant relief flooding his overwhelmed senses. It’s not exactly practical to take a shower with glasses on, but he knows they would never dare to fog up or get blurry with water drops. Plus, it’s not like he’s planning on soaking for too long, not with his angel waiting below.

Another snap and Crowley’s clothes vanish, the vain miracle saving him the pain of having to force his body to listen long enough for him to remove them the old fashioned way. He climbs in the shower, shutting the door behind him, and turns the water on, knowing it will always be as hot as he wants and needs it to be instantly. A shudder takes over his entire body as the hot water washes over him, and Crowley can’t help the groan that leaves his lips.

Facing away from the stream of water, Crowley hangs his head as the water starts pounding against his shoulders. Another shiver runs through him and Crowley almost has to reach a hand out for the wall to steady himself. He stops himself though, finding some sort of balance again quickly.

He’s so sick of feeling this way, so sick of having periods where he hurts all of the time. It didn’t used to be this way, he vaguely remembers, knowing that there was one period of time when no one ever hurt. After he was a snake though, after he did what was asked of him, all he has known since is just never ending pain. Part of him knows it’s some sort of punishment, because of course it is, but he still curses under his breath, still wishes for the days when he didn’t hurt.

As the water pounds over him, he feels some of the tension in his shoulders and back start to release, but his legs still ache terribly. Still have pains shooting up them as his weight shifts. Taking a deep shuddering breath, Crowley debates if he should spend the energy to wash his hair while he’s in the shower or not. As another stab of pain shots through him, he decides against it and finally leans against the wall, giving in.

It’s not long after that that Crowley decides to turn the water off. He would love to stay in the shower all day, but he knows that Aziraphale is waiting, knows his angel has decided to set breakfast up for them both, and he needs to pull himself together and finally get downstairs. As the steamy air from the shower washes over him, Crowley takes a few deep breaths, preparing for the actual act of moving once again. It’s going to hurt, he knows it is, but at this point, it all hurts so why bother staying here.

A knock on the door makes him cock his head, waiting to see if the angel is going to invite himself in or not. “Crowley? Are you doing ok in there?” a soft voice calls.

“Doing fine, angel,” Crowley calls back almost too quickly and he winces. “Just wanted to take a bit of a wash is all.”

A shuffle can be heard on the other side of the door and Crowley knows his angel is debating whether or not he should come in. “I’ll be down in a moment, promise angel,” he says after a few moments have passed. Following through on his words, he opens the door to the shower and starts to climb out.

He doesn’t even make it three steps before his legs give out on him, a torrent of pain ripping through them that sends Crowley sprawling on the bathroom floor with a choked cry. Before he can really comprehend what’s happened, the door flies open and there’s a pair of anxious hands in his face.

“Crowley! Oh, my dear, what happened?” Aziraphale asks with a rush, words barely making it out of him in a way that’s understandable.

Crowley for his part, is just trying to breathe after having the wind knocked out of him. His glasses have flown off, landing somewhere under the sink, and he has to blink back the tears that are forming because of the shock. His entire being is screaming at him, fire licking along every nerve. As Aziraphale’s hands land on him finally, Crowley hears himself whimper, the contact only causing his nerves to fire again.

The hands flit away again and Crowley almost manages to thank his angel. Using what little energy he has, he reaches out for his Aziraphale, his fingers finding softer ones as he wraps his hand around the others. He holds on as tightly as he can, still doing his best to breathe through the pain in his legs and back and he’s grateful when Aziraphale squeezes back, anchoring him.

“What can I do to help?” Aziraphale asks softly.

Crowley can hear the worry beneath his words, can hear how hard the angel is controlling himself, and he blinks slowly as he tries to find the words to reply. Face pressed against the cold tile floor, Crowley shivers, but he isn’t sure if it’s from growing cold or from everything else that’s going on. “Jussst need a m-moment t-to breathe...” Crowley stutters and hisses, the words finally spilling from his lips.

Aziraphale squeezes his hand again. “Of course, my dear,” he replies eventually. “Just let me know what I can do.” A hand lands gently in his hair and starts to card through the wet strands. Crowley wants so badly to lean into it, but takes whatever grounding he can get at this point.

As the shock from the initial act of falling starts to wear off, Crowley’s brain begins to catalog all of the new aches and pains. He can feel his face already bruising from hitting the tile floor, his head pounding from where it cracked as he hit the ground. Elbows and knees are next; they throb, but not much more than they already did. A subtly timed deep breath he releases slowly tells him no ribs are cracked, but he knows his chest is going to be sore for days now - it was last time anyways. No other new pains call his attention, but the demon knows there will be more that show themselves later. They always do.

With a groan, he pulls his hand away from Aziraphale’s grasp, internally whimpering from the lose of contact. He wants so badly to get off of the floor though, so he uses the hand to brace himself against the floor and tries to push himself up with it. As soon as he does, only rising just enough to get his head off of the cold floor, the room instantly spins beneath him and he has to shut his eyes to fight off the wave of nausea as he hangs his head.

A feather light touch on his back turns into soft circles when he doesn’t pull away from Aziraphale’s hand and the sound of his own panting reaches his ears as he tries to stave off the feelings. “Let me help, love,” Aziraphale whispers and, after a stubborn moment or two, Crowley finally nods his head, accepting he can’t do this on his own today.

Aziraphale waits another heart beat or two, seconds that Crowley readies himself in gratefully, before pulling one of Crowley’s arms around his shoulders. It takes a few moments of awkward fumbling and several hushed whimpers and groans from the demon, but eventually, they get him up enough that he’s at least sitting now. He allows himself to be pulled close to the angel as Aziraphale leans against the side of the shower, soaking up as much warmth from the other as he possibly can as he lays back against his chest. His long legs tangle with Aziraphale’s and distantly, part of him notices he’s still dripping wet, getting water all over his angel’s soft cotton clothing. He registers that the shirt is one of his older ones, worn soft with age and miracled to fit whichever of them decides to wear it.

Crowley can only pant, forcing back as much of the pain as he possibly can. Just that small amount of movement has him completely worn out once more. A large shiver overtakes him, a combination of cold and pain, and he feels himself pressing closer to Aziraphale as it wracks him. A snap can be heard before he feels himself wrapped in the largest, softest towel they own, with a pair of strong arms wrapping around him as well.

They stay sitting like that for an indeterminate stretch of time. Crowley can’t bring himself to focus on something as trivial as that anymore as he continues to ache, legs still pulsing and throbbing. His face is cradled against Aziraphale’s neck and he tries to find as much comfort as he can in that fact, tries to block out as much of the pain as he can, which at this point, isn’t very much.

“I wish there was some way I could help,” Aziraphale whispers suddenly, breaking the silence that has fallen between them again.

“I wisssh you c-could too, angel,” Crowley hears himself saying. He knows this is it, the point of no going back. He’s going to have to tell his angel everything now, have to give up one of his longest kept secrets, but he knows Aziraphale won’t out right ask. He would never do that to the demon. Crowley wishes he had his sunglasses on still, but he doesn’t have the energy to snap them closer, let alone reach for them, and he sighs as he tries to find the words.

Before he can even open his mouth, Aziraphale nudges his head gently, and Crowley flicks his eyes open to look at his glasses right in front of him in their laps. A tearful smile twitches at his lips as he slowly slips them on, the world instantly darkening for him. His angel always knows what he needs, and Crowley feels part of himself wondering what in all three realms he did to deserve this kindness.

“It’s been this way since the Garden,” he hears himself whisper out finally. The words sound like they come from someone else as he speaks them, the secret finally pouring from his lips. “Ever since I first changed after that whole apple business.”

Aziraphale, to his credit, only sucks in a breath that he lets out slowly, processing the words before replying. “What is it?” he asks softly, and Crowley could kiss him for not pushing harder.

“There’s always this...aching pain that I feel, but most of the time it just sits at a pretty low level. Something I can ignore for the most part,” Crowley starts, coming back to himself as he finds his words. “I never really knew there was anything wrong, just thought it was the same for all human bodies, until I finally learned that I was wrong. Took a few centuries to realize that, but I didn’t really know what to do once I did. Not like anything ever really made it go away. I tired.”

As Crowley talks, telling his story, he realizes that Aziraphale is only nodding along occasionally, hand stroking gently over his arm. He isn’t giving many other clues that he’s listening, but Crowley knows the angel is, even if he isn’t adding anything. As Crowley takes a deep breath, figuring out what to say next, how much he should actually tell his angel, Aziraphale is still only holding him close. Crowley sighs needing to just get it all out now that he’s started.

“Waited long enough and the humans discovered drugs. Tried different variations of those over the years. Nothing ever helped, not for long anyways. One time, whatever I took just knocked me out for ten years. Some stupid sod must have found me and buried me; woke up in a grave. That was a fun night with a blasted hangover...” Crowley feels himself chuckle at the memory, Aziraphale only holding him closer as he recounts it.

“That sounds...awful, to be truthful,” the angel says.

“Yeah, it truly was, but...” Crowley does his best to shrug. “Took the edge off for a while at least. After that, whenever I’ve had days when the pain is worse than others, I just try to sleep it off. Or at least, lay in bed until it passes. Sorry about those canceled and rescheduled lunch dates.”

Aziraphale stiffens slightly at his words. “You mean, you were in pain those days? And you never said anything?”

Crowley feels his head lower at the words from his angel, knowing Aziraphale is running every scenario in his head, trying to figure out when Crowley canceled and why. “I just didn’t want you to worry, angel. There wasn’t anything you could have done to fix it, nothing you could do to stop it. I’ve tried.”

Aziraphale’s hand stops rubbing, for only a heartbeat, before it starts up again. “Maybe so, but I could have at least checked in on you, brought you something...”

Crowley can hear all the other thoughts behind his angel’s words, can hear just how hurt Aziraphale really is, but just how concerned he is as well. It’s all too much for Crowley on top of everything else he’s feeling, but he doesn’t have the energy to sort through it all. Not tonight at least, but he knows it’s a conversation that will come up again sometime. Crowley let’s the silence fall between them again, not really knowing what else to say at this point. It’s not the greatest story to tell, doesn’t exactly have a happy ending, and he knows if Aziraphale has any questions, he’ll just ask.

Shivering still even under the warm towel, Crowley presses closer to his angel, needing to suck in some of the warmth radiating from the other being. Aziraphale instantly notices, though, and pulls away enough to look at Crowley’s face. “We can move to the bedroom, if you’d like. I hear there’s a nice warm bed there,” he jokes softly, and Crowley gives him a gentle smile.

“Sorry I ruined breakfast,” he hears himself saying.

Aziraphale lets out a huff. “There will always be more breakfasts. Plus, breakfast in bed is a thing people enjoy on special occasions I’ve heard. I can always miracle that up for us.”

Crowley hears himself chuckle. “You would love that idea, angel. Not so sure this is a ‘special’ occasion though.”

“That’s quite alright, it doesn’t have to be in order to spend a day in bed with you, my love,” Aziraphale replies, and Crowley wonders, not for the first time, if his angel know just what those words really do to him when he says them. If he truly understands what that amount of kindness does to him. He shivers again, but this time not from the cold.

Aziraphale doesn’t realize this though, and goes to snap his fingers. Crowley can only brace himself for the change that’s about to happen, clenching his eyes just before he hears the sound. A heartbeat later and they are laying in bed together, Crowley still pressed against Aziraphale, but with his legs in entirely different positions than they were moments ago. The change in position without much warning has Crowley’s inflamed joints screaming even louder than they already were and he can’t help but cry out. He regrets it instantly when Aziraphale’s hands start to flutter over him, not really knowing what to do.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry! Should I have not done that? I didn’t mean - I thought it would just be -”

“Angel,” Crowley gasps out, needing Aziraphale to stop, needing to explain. He has to take a few deep breaths in order to gather himself enough though, the nervous energy from his angel mixing with every other emotion flowing through him at the moment. “It’s ok, really.”

“But I caused you more pain,” Aziraphale whispers as he finally settles a hand in Crowley’s hair. His fingers move gently through the strands and Crowley feels himself leaning into it.

“It was going to hurt no matter what, I swear,” Crowley breathes out. “With this kind of pain, any movement, especially sudden ones, hurts. I just usually give myself more time to brace for it is all,” he explains quickly, needing Aziraphale to tone the concern down by at least two tics. “The trouble with this kind of pain, it just hurts no matter what you do. Slow movements are really the only thing that helps keep it at bay.”

“I will have to keep that in mind, I’m sorry dear,” Aziraphale says as he presses a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head.

“Can’t be sorry when you didn’t even know,” Crowley mutters. He should have had this conversation with his angel a long time ago. Should have at least explained it when they planned on moving in together. “....should have at least let you know all of the baggage you were taking on with me...”

“Crowley, you are not baggage,” Aziraphale sternly tells him, making Crowley realize he said that last part out loud. “We’ve been by each others sides since the very beginning. Nothing between us will ever be ‘baggage.’ Absolutely nothing.”

Crowley feels his chest clench at the angel’s words. He really doesn’t have anymore room in his broken, tapped together heart, and yet his angel just keeps laying it on him. Before he can really even think to stop it, a tear slips past his eye, silently running down his cheek. “I never want to be a burden to you...” he whispers.

Aziraphale presses him closer, holds him tighter at his words. “You have never, nor will you ever be a burden to me,” the angel says softly, and it’s all Crowley can do to hold himself together. “We will get through this day just like we have all the rest of them and we will find a way to work with this pain, together. You don’t have to suffer through this alone anymore, and you will never have to ever again.”

Crowley wants so badly to reply, wants so badly to find soft, sweet, thoughtful words to say in reply, but his mind goes blank. He presses his face against his angel, glasses disappearing at a moments notice. The hand in his hair presses him closer, giving him all the comfort he can take from it as he tries to hold himself together. Aziraphale lets him be, his own words finally falling away, and they lay in bed together, needing to just be in each others presence.

Some time passes before Crowley is able to pull back, able to just rest his head against his angel’s chest. It’s even more time before he snaps his own fingers, the breakfast from downstairs appearing in front of them, as fresh and warm was it was when the angel put it all together. Aziraphale gives an appreciative hum and Crowley soon finds himself being fed pieces of toast and bacon as his angel continues to hold him. They have all of the time in the world to come up with a plan for his bad days. They can take all the time they need to discuss what all Crowley has laid bare between them.

For now, they both find comfort in just being in bed together, enjoying a perfectly normal thing such as eating breakfast. Crowley is able to push most of the pain he is in to the back of his mind, comforted by the fact that his angel is still next to him, just as he has always been.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr if you want @milla-gsd


End file.
